


baby steps to unlock the rest of your life

by blue_roses



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Gift Fic, Trans Lance (Voltron), Trans Male Character, happy bday everett!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:17:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8475022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_roses/pseuds/blue_roses
Summary: Yet, after a few months, and all the steps he’s taken, no one refers to him by name. Which is his own fault, he supposes, because he never quite gave himself one. AKA: How Lance became Lance.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> OK THIS IS FOR freckledlance/everett!!! happy bday this is SO last minute bc my other idea fell thru but i remember you saying how much u like how i write trans lance? so this is my gift to u, i hope you have a great day ily and i hope this is good!! <333

  The sun hasn’t come down yet. He knows, even though he’s indoors with the curtains closed, he knows. Since before he could remember, he’d memorized when he had time to be something different. He’d looked up a dressing room, borrowed clothes that weren’t skirts or dresses just so he could know. He knows now, but then, so does the rest of his family. Guess he can’t fake sick now.

  
  He’s aware of the tears, of hair being tied out from rubber bands and a baseball cap. His mother asks what’s happening, and he doesn't’ deliver much of a speech. It’s something he’ll gloss over later in life, sure, but then he says I’m a boy and I want to be a pilot, I’m a boy and I want to be a pilot in a voice he doesn’t feel is his own.

  
“Why are you scared?” they ask.

  
“Well,” he says, “you don’t hear about...people like me.” Then, he and his family make history. A day later, his little sister starts selling trinkets and cold drinks.     When he asks, she says it’s for him. Then there’s the binder, and when he uses socks, his brother goes to the other side of town to get him a packer. He didn’t even know they were a thing until then, but it all feels right to him. There’s always someone to sit down during transition research, he’s driven to the doctor's, then the pharmacy, and he’s never been more grateful. Yet, after a few months, and all the steps he’s taken, no one refers to him by name. Which is his own fault, he supposes, because he never quite gave himself one.

  
“Mom,” he says, as he drapes himself over her. She’s sitting on the couch, taking a long deserved break for a longer shift. He can see bags in her eyes, he’s around ten and he knows he needs to work harder for her.

  
“Yes?” she asks, “What’s the matter, your face is all twisted up. Your face is going to get stuck that way.”  
He shakes his head at that, “Come on, then who’s going to be the pretty one around here?” He’s joking, because she can outshine him on her worst days. Even when she’s waking everyone up when there’s a storm coming, all hair cap and exhaustion and fear. He knows he can’t ever compare to her.

  
“You won’t be pretty anymore if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” her hands curl through his hair. He got it cut short a month ago, and he likes it enough to stick with it. It’s growing longer again, God forbid it ever ends up becoming a mullet. Though these days, he’s relieved at the fact there’s a low chance he’ll ever see someone with one of those outside of the internet. That’s a relic that belongs in the past.

  
“Well,” he says, “I don’t know what my name could be. I mean, it’s been months and I still can’t think of one. Who’s gonna take me seriously without one, except you guys. But you’re family, you can’t count.”  
“Well,” she repeats, letting his head rest on her shoulder, “you’re brave. And strong, you’re already trying to flirt at school. At least I heard that from your brother, he says you need work on that end--”

  
“He can shove it,” he says, but he’s smiling.

  
“That’s between you and him,” she says, “but as I was saying. You have a dream, right? To go to the Garrison, to become a pilot. You say you want to make us proud even when you do that every day. And being my son, what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t help find a name that shows who you are?”  
He might be crying a bit into her shoulder, but neither of them mention it. They bask in silence for a moment until he speaks up. Because he wants a name, more than a lot of things, so he can say it whenever he wants. So when he flirts with Dahlia from the homeroom next door he can say, “The name’s ____,” with all the confidence in the world that he’s missing right now.

  
“Do you want Pa to help?” he only calls his dad Pa when he’s emotional. And yeah, he’s a little emotional right now. He owes himself that much honesty.

  
“Are you kidding me?” she asks, “Your papa wanted to name every single one of you off of Lord of the Rings characters, I’m not letting him near this.”

  
“Good point,” he says. He curls himself off of her, back into a taller shape. A body he’s changing with his own two hands, with his family lifting him up. His mama gets name books and a laptop. They text everyone to take care dinner tonight, something special, because their son is getting a name. She tells him there’s no way this isn’t a special occasion.

  
   Hours later, at the dinner table, he calls himself Lance. His mama calls him ladykiller when he mentions Dahlia from the homeroom next door, and tells him not to steal. No one gets it but the two of them, and he’s keeling over the table. For no real reason, afterwards, his entire family decides to go to the Pizza Shack. Lance gets an entire box of garlic knots to himself, with the justification of: you’re a growing boy after all, Lance, and you’re gonna shoot for the stars.

  
  Lance doesn’t know if they’re talking about piloting or height, and he doesn’t care. All he knows is a name that’s surrounded by warmth, and a body he can almost call home. He doesn’t think it can get any better than this, even if a part of him’s sure Dahlia will shoot him down.  
Under the moonlight, stuffed with garlic knots walking with a family that he knows will always be there, Lance knows the rest of his life is about to start. All he has to do is keep on going.


End file.
